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the 1979 Wisden that we went back to my flat and discovered the body.’
    â€˜Yes, it hadn’t been taken away, simply carelessly replaced in the wrong order,’ said Charters.
    â€˜Quite a weight off my mind,’ said Snow.
    â€˜Ducky Buckton,’ said Caldicott, drifting back on a wave of nostalgia. ‘Bought it in North Africa, poor chap. But why did Jock Beevers have his passport?’
    â€˜Did he?’ Snow asked.
    â€˜Didn’t he?’
    â€˜You tell me.’
    â€˜Need we play cat and mouse, Inspector?’ said Charters, exasperated. He picked up the passport. ‘Either it was in Colonel Beevers’ possession or it...’ He stopped abruptly, staring goggle-eyed at the photograph in the passport. ‘But this is Colonel Beevers!’ He thrust the passport in front of Caldicott.
    â€˜To the life!’ said Caldicott excitedly. ‘I’m out of my depth here. What is Jock Beevers doing on Ducky Buckton’s passport?’
    â€˜Interesting isn’t it?’ said Snow. ‘Like the false-bottomed Bible it was tucked inside.’
    â€˜What are you suggesting?’ Charters demanded. ‘That this is a forged passport using the name of a schoolmate who died for his country?’
    â€˜What are you suggesting, Mr Charters? That it isn’t?’
    â€˜Give it here, Charters.’ Caldicott snatched the passport and opened it. ‘Russian visas,’ he said, stunned.
    â€˜Quite a regular visitor, wasn’t he,’ said Snow.
    â€˜Good God,’ said Charters, lost for a decent excuse.
    Caldicott, totally bewildered, asked, ‘But why?’
    â€˜To be briefed and debriefed, I suppose. About what isn’t my pigeon, thank goodness.’ Snow went on casually, after scarcely a pause, ‘What’s Moscow’s interest in Hong Kong, would you say?’
    â€˜Oh, enormous,’ said Caldicott. ‘British presence, Chinese presence, lease running out, secret negotiations, no doubt. There’s a hell of a lot going on in that little melting-pot that the Russkies would give their...’ He stopped, belatedly realising what Snow was getting at. ‘I don’t believe it!’
    â€˜That he was a spy? What was he then – a travel courier?’
    â€˜It’ll take more than this to convince me, Inspector,’ said Charters loyally, giving the passport back to Snow. ‘You see, I knew Colonel Beevers.’
    Inspector Snow replaced the passport in his briefcase in precisely the correct position and took out two photocopies of a short letter. ‘I know you did, Mr Charters. That’s why I’m here. He left you both a letter, by the way. I’m surprised you didn’t stumble across it.’
    â€˜We didn’t stumble across it because we hadn’t looked in the trunk,’ said Caldicott heatedly.
    â€˜Don’t rise to the bait, old man,’ said Charters. ‘What letter?’
    â€˜Well, more of a note, really,’ said Snow. ‘In fact, he does seem to have assumed that in the event of his death you would open the trunk.’
    â€˜Do you mean to say you’ve read it?’ Charters demanded.
    â€˜I’ve made you a photocopy each. You can keep it.’
    Charters seized his sheet. ‘Thank you! Thank you very much!’
    Caldicott read his copy. ‘“Dear old chaps, just in case my plane nosedives or the old ticker packs up before I get there – Mix Well and Serve. Yours aye, Jock.” End message.’ Caldicott looked up. ‘Never much of a correspondent, old Jock.’
    â€˜â€œMix Well and Serve”,’ said Charters, mystified.
    â€˜Yes, I was wondering about that,’ said Snow.
    â€˜Quotation, is it?’ Caldicott asked.
    â€˜Conundrum?’ Charters suggested.
    â€˜Code?’ Snow asked, at which Caldicott suddenly looked wary and said unconvincingly, ‘Catchphrase. I’ve remembered. Does it come